I’m about to finish my second term as an elder at my church.  The first time around I didn’t take advantage of one of the main privileges of serving.  This time, with a little twist of the arm, I discovered one of the most rewarding parts of being a leader at First Presbyterian:  Home-bound Communion.

Two elders get The Body of Christ “to go.”  It’s in a little leather box.  We meet in the church parking lot at 2:00 and head out to some elderly person’s house.  You never know exactly what you’re going to find.

This past week, my partner and I made two stops.

The first was at the home of an older gentleman who had worked for the City of Raleigh for many years.  I was warned that he sometimes doesn’t wear all of his clothes.  Me neither; no big deal.

We actually had to crack his front door and yell out to get his attention.  He was appropriately dressed but confined to a wheelchair, living in  his wooden ranch alone.  His wife died many years ago.  We swapped war stories.

I said that it was hard to press on without your spouse.  He explained to me that she was still there, just in a different sort of way.  He said when he procrastinated or didn’t do what he was supposed to do, he sort of felt a gnawing.  “That’s her.”

We laughed that they would be up there waiting for us at heaven’s door with a great big To Do list.

After chatting, we pulled out the bread and juice.  We had fancy, tiny, silver trays for serving, but we could have used a Dixie cup.  The scripture, prayer and act of breaking bread, knowing the symbolism, was what was important.

We then hit a nursing home for dementia patients.  I’ll have to admit it was a bit disturbing to walk in.  The door shut and locked behind us.  We couldn’t get out on our own accord.  I felt a bit claustrophobic.

We walked down the hall to room 125 where we met two beautiful women.  One was from our church, the other was her roommate, an Episcopal.  They argued a bit about whether the different denominations could take communion together.  They played off of each other well, seemingly enjoying each other’s company.  Sparring a bit seemed natural for them.

One asked me how old I was.  When I told her 49, she said I had preserved myself well.  They asked about our families and were interested in our kids.  One asked if I was dating.  I don’t think she was fishing for herself!  She was just genuinely concerned about my happiness.  She had buried two husbands, one when she still had four kids in the house.  We had a lot in common.

You’d think it would be them who received the blessing that day.  Certainly having visitors would brighten their day.  Certainly knowing that their church family still thought of them and loved them would bring good cheer.  And perhaps it did.

But what I learned to expect after the first time I filled this role was that they weren’t the recipients that day.  No, it was me.  I was the one who left feeling better.  I saw people in what seemed to be really difficult situations laughing, showing love and appreciation, and sharing wisdom.  They were asking about me.  Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to be doing that?

Apparently they didn’t get the memo.  Instead of taking, they doled out.  Perhaps that is wisdom, something we all gain with age.  Or maybe there was just something special about these folks.    It seems that they have figured out that giving is better than receiving.

Saturday Afternoon, Tanner House

Daddy and Stephanie, taking some pics:

And my favorite…

Michelle had a different idea!  It’s Raining Tacos.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQZBjUJNac0

I lost a dear friend in a car wreck several years before Lisa died.  His young wife was left raising two boys, ages 3 and 3 months at the time.  She’s been a great resource for me over the past few years.

One special thing I saw her do was to turn some of Trey’s clothes into quilts for her boys.  I’ve thought about that for quite some time – what a great way to preserve memories.

It happened that a friend of mine had a cousin who is a quilter.  She hooked the two of us up.

So last winter I split Lisa’s clothes into two piles – the special pieces I wanted to keep, that maybe the girls might want in the future – and those to give away.

The girls went through the give away pile and each chose outfits they really liked or that had special meaning to them.

I tagged each article of clothing with the name of the kid who wanted a swatch of that material in her quilt.  I boxed them all up and shipped them to Boston and the quilter began the quilting.

For Christmas, I wrapped up my recently received blankets and put them under the tree.  They were the last three presents left on Christmas morning.

I wasn’t sure if they’d really get it – if they’d appreciate all that was sewn into this priceless throw.  But they did.  Even Michelle seemed to comprehend the significance of this gift.

Much to my dismay, Lisa loved her flannel pajamas.  She had three pair of hot pink ones.  The quilter took a pocket from each and made it a square of its own.

  Each one also had the letters of Lisa’s sorority, Alpha Delta Pi, and an emblem from St. Timothy’s School – the place where she worked, the place where they had spent so many happy years together.

We walked through each square on all three blankets.  We saw her favorite blue ruffled shirt, the black dress she often wore to church in the winter, and the walking shorts she’d sported with her new Rainbow flip-flops.

Each has a square of the pink silk blouse Lisa wore to fancy events.  I remember the white eyelet shirt I gave her many, many years ago.  And DJs sports the tan linen overalls Lisa was obsessed with in the spring of 2003. 

The blankets will have to be dry cleaned, there are literally thousands of dollars in clothing stitched into these 4′ by 5′ rectangles.  But they were made to be used, not to be folded across the back of a chair.

I imagine my girls wrapping up in their blanket with their own kids on a chilly Christmas Eve – thoughts of their mom and dad prancing through their heads.  I can envision them using it as a protective shield when some slim-ball dude breaks their heart in college.  Maybe it will be a comforting salve when they’re sick, and their dad isn’t around to nurse them back to health.

These special conglomerations of fabric are more than blankets.  They’re a physical representation of Lisa’s love that can be wrapped around them at any needed time or place.

I think we all really need one of these.